


radiator parasite

by BuzzCat



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (if you squint), Gen, M/M, ineffable husbands, mostly I just enjoy the idea that Crowley the cold-blooded reptile lives in England
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 13:38:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19174384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuzzCat/pseuds/BuzzCat
Summary: Aziraphale takes well to winter, bundling up in his jackets and sweaters until he's quite content. Crowley, on the other hand, would prefer if the whole thing would have the good sense to shove off.Crowley is a cold-blood reptile and Aziraphale is well used to seeing a vaguely Crowley-shaped being draped over his radiator.





	radiator parasite

On the whole, Aziraphale felt that he well tolerated the winter in England. The rain and the cold well-suited his clothes, allowing him to bundle up as warm as he liked without fear of overheating in the day. He enjoyed the holiday celebrations that seemed to pop up everywhere, the Christmas market filled with holiday knickknacks. And there was also this feeling, a feeling of general excitement. There were an awful lot of other feelings mixed up around the holidays, but every now and then he’d pass someone in the street whose soul glowed like fairy lights with the feelings of what the season tried to be, and it always made Aziraphale walk with a lighter spring in his step.

Crowley, on the other hand, despised the holidays based on principle. Those with a passing interpretation of a demon would have said it was because of the Christian basis that claimed to be at the heart of thing things—though really capitalism had taken its place as the heart of the holidays decades ago—but they would have been wrong. Crowley despised the holidays because they fell in the winter and his people had the gall to expect him to do things during the winter. Sure, the holidays left a lot of high-running emotions that could easily be tempted into something more devious than a polite dinner and Christmas crackers, but Crowley tried to avoid the whole kerfuffle for the simple reason that it was too damn cold. All the chill in the air, Jack Frost nipping at everyone’s nose. Crowley had quite gotten over the concept right around the third or fourth time he’d had to endure sub-freezing temperatures and he’d arrived at the conclusion that the only way to spend winter was sleeping as much as possible, tucked against the warmest thing available.

Which explained exactly why, one morning when Aziraphale came downstairs from the flat to open the bookshop, he found a very lethargic demon flopped against the radiator, curled up on his side and practically ready to crawl into the thing.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale peered nervously at the demon that typically went by Crowley and appeared to have all the physical trappings of what Aziraphale had come to know as Crowley.

“Mrumph.” Whatever was leaning against his radiator apparently couldn’t be bothered with a proper Crowley-esque response. Aziraphale stepped forward and leaned over the new heat parasite to turn the heating up on the radiator. Crowley made a pleased sort of sound and leaned his cheek against the warming metal.

“May I inquire as to the reason you’ve invaded my floorspace?”

“Heating went out at mine,” was the lethargic response from the floor.

“And I suppose you’re not quite up to tempting the heating system into work again?”

“No.” The word was said as an end to the conversation, though Aziraphale knew quite well that Crowley would have undoubtedly been able to coax the heating into working had he not had other machinations in play.

“Ah. Your landlord blocked the Bentley in again, didn’t he?”

“Mhmm,” came the disgruntled sound in response. Aziraphale nodded to himself.

“I’ll make us some tea then.”

Aziraphale miracled up two cups of hot tea, three sugars for himself and one for Crowley. His own mug he set atop his desk before frowning at the mug he’d intended for Crowley, which suddenly found itself persuaded into something that could have passably been perceived as a veritable bowl. He leaned down and handed the mug to Crowley, who took one hand off the radiator to grab the mug and pull it tight to his chest. He made a sound not unlike a human sinking into a hot bath and Aziraphale couldn’t help the fond smile as he looked at his friend. He leaned down and patted Crowley’s head before going about opening the bookshop for the day.

No more words were said on the subject as Crowley spent the rest of the day veritably trying to crawl into the radiator. The only sign he hadn’t fallen asleep against the radiator was when Aziraphale phoned up Crowley’s landlord and very politely, almost benignly, put the fear of God and several lawsuits into the man, at which point Crowley’s lips twitched into something like a smirk before he resettled himself against the metal. As he sat there through the day, listening to Aziraphale very politely not yell at people while still making them deeply ashamed of themselves, it occurred to Crowley that maybe winter had some perks after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I, like the rest of the Internet, watched Good Omens and now I'm living in this fandom forever, thanks very much. Drop me a prompt if you want to see more Aziraphale/Crowley!


End file.
